


Stories of Ages Gone

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: The Travel Collection: Drabbles, Snippets, and Supershorts [36]
Category: Highlander, Sanctuary (TV), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets and bits from the "Immortals of Arda" AU, a primarily Highlander/Lord of the Rings crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First

**Author's Note:**

> Immortals of Arda - a Lord of the Rings and Highlander crossover where Boromir is an Immortal, and the way Immortals works is different when the world is young and called Arda, rather than the world that is called Terra. There are some further crossovers in "Five People Boromir Never Met (And One He Did)" that are further explored.

He was born in darkness. Not the dark of night, beneath the stars like his mother's people. Not the dimly lit huts of his father's people, huddled together like deer against the winter.

This darkness was the cold blackness of Utumno, the great fortress of the Vala Morgoth. Born in blood from the tortured wreck of his mother, and twisted by the hand of the dark in search of a creature he could call his own. Abandoned half-dead as a failed experiment into the merciless waste.

He refused to die. Refused to give up, and struggled to reach some place that would better sustain his pain-wracked body. Failed, though he yet refused to acknowledge such a thing, nor would recall it later. Would not recall arguing with a being beyond the power of the Vala who'd so tormented him. Would not remember the wonderful and terrible deal struck that would give him a life as long as the world should last.

Nor was his the only life so saved, though he would live long years alone before he met another born of Morgoth's failures. Live long enough to see the world change, and those such as he change with it. Live and survive, and be everything Man could conceive to be, and never once truly remembering how his kind came to be, nor realize he is the first, as well as oldest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "dark".
> 
> Originally posted as part of [The Travel Collection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/439754), in the chapter [Not Always the Absence of Light](http://archiveofourown.org/works/439754/chapters/951873).


	2. Tempus

It's the perfect place to wait out a century and more while history passes. Off the known road, secluded and stately, and built in a style she's seen nowhere else. That the world it once inhabited will not be told of to the world for decades yet is no matter, only that she has a sanctuary for the next century where she can truly wait it out without interfering too greatly in the progress of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "road".
> 
> Originally posted as part of [The Travel Collection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/439754), in the chapter [The Ever-Changing Road](http://archiveofourown.org/works/439754/chapters/749674).


	3. It's Too Quiet

"It's too quiet in here." Boromir leans against one side of the empty throne, staring out into the dimness of the cavern. "There should be voices and cheerful parties and maybe a fight or two."

"Don't tell me you haven't snuck in here when I've been too busy with a life, just so you can have some peace and quiet." Thorin's voice comes from the other side of the throne, closest it's been in many lifetimes to a proper dwarven voice.

Boromir lets out a chuckle. "Point." He takes a drink from his bottle of the wine they'd left stashed here last time both of them had been in Erebor. "Peter still doesn't have a clue, does he?"

"No." Thorin sounds amused. "He thought I really just got them mixed up." There's a pause, and the sound of sloshing liquid. "They're still having entirely too much fun with that."

"At least it was easier to find them this time around." Boromir shifts, turning to lean sideways against the throne instead of putting his back to it. He doesn't add that they're all still in one piece - that war had made everyone hurt. Tauriel has refused to step outside of what's left of the Mirkwood caves, tiny as that remnant is, since. She refuses to watch them die again.

"Once I realized the dreams weren't just dreams." Thorin shifts after a moment, looking around the throne at Boromir. His face is different from the one that Boromir remembers from their first meeting, but not terribly much. "It did make it easier to figure out why I kept mixing Aiden's Kíli and Dean's Fíli up."

Boromir quirks up one corner of his mouth in amusement. "I wish I knew with such certainty who my relatives are. I can't figure out if David just looks entirely too like my brother, or if he might - if there were records enough - trace his line back to Faramir."

Thorin chuckles. "I'm sure if he were truly Faramir returned, you'd know, Sean."

Shrugging, Boromir takes another sip of wine. "I hope so. But I'm never as certain of anyone but you and your nephews. Haldir says I'm just dense."

"That, or you have too many other Immortals running around in your head." Thorin raises an eyebrow, and Boromir reaches for the cork of his current bottle, chucking it at Thorin's head.

"I have fewer than Methos, Richard. Or even some Immortals younger than me." Boromir sighs. "Most of those whose Quickenings I've taken have long since gone silent, though. Only Ishtar remains distinct, and she's more interested in making my dreams interesting than anything else."

Thorin is silent for a long moment, taking a long drink from his bottle. "You're right. We need a party here."

"The boys. Haldir and his brothers." Boromir quirks up one corner of his mouth in a grin again. "David, Miranda, Karl, and everyone from the Fellowship."

"Martin," Thorin adds. "The rest of my Company. Not Hugo - he doesn't quite manage to match the memory of Elrond."

"No, he doesn't." Boromir is quiet a moment. "Although I almost prefer that to Ian. He has to have some spark of Gandalf in him."

Thorin snorts. "Not that he'll ever admit it if he knows he does, or that we'll find out elsewhere if he doesn't know."

Boromir tilted the bottle toward Thorin in acknowledgement of the point, before taking another swig, only to find it empty. "I think I need more wine before we finish planning."

"Are you even more than tipsy?" Thorin gives him an irritated look, probably because Boromir's drank at least three bottles to his one.

"Somewhat. Enough that I probably shouldn't try to navigate the causeways." Boromir shrugs. He won't stay dead if he falls, but breaking bones always leaves him aching for weeks after.

"Then stay here, and we can plan the party later." Thorin reaches out to lever himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he moves to sit in the throne itself. He's apparently had enough wine.

Boromir reaches out to take the mostly-empty bottle, and contemplates it a moment before dropping his own empty and Thorin's over the edge of the causeway. He ignores Thorin's exasperated glare, and gets to his feet, wobbling a little as he makes his way to the stash of wine. They need more. And perhaps he can get properly drunk if he drags the entire remaining case over to Thorin's throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Hollow".
> 
> Originally posted as part of [The Travel Collection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/439754), in the chapter [Lost Deeps](http://archiveofourown.org/works/439754/chapters/2020100).


End file.
